


Sticks and Stones

by Rearviewdreamer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Apologetic Louis, Banter, Bottom Louis, Harry making Louis work to make it up to him, M/M, Tennis, Top Harry, annoyed/ fed up Louis, competitive Louis, lover's spat, uncoordinated Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 03:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/pseuds/Rearviewdreamer
Summary: Number 134: The pleasure of uninhibited trash talk"Harry gets in position to set up his serve and his stance looks a lot stronger than last time. That’s better form than Louis has seen from him all day so he braces himself, squatting low in anticipation that he might actually get to play.His thighs are tensed and set to propel him forward to answer Harry’s serve with a good hit of his own. Unfortunately, Louis doesn’t even have to move from where he’s standing, sighing and straightening up again when Harry sends the ball clear over his head. This one flies so far off course that the fucking leaves rustle as it cuts through the trees.Louis drops his head and covers his face with his racket even though he knows Harry can still see him through the nylon strings.“Sorry again, babe!” Harry offers."Or: Harry is awful at playing tennis and Louis is supportive of his relative awkwardness and extreme uncoordination; usually, anyway.





	Sticks and Stones

The sun blazes down on the left side of the tennis court making Louis regret the decision to come out here with Harry even more. He squints, holding up a hand to block the light as he searches the outer box for wherever the hell Harry’s wild serve just landed. Louis’ money is on the woods behind him. His guess turns out to be spot on when he turns to finds a new neon dot amongst all the others in the tree line a whole fifty yards away from the serve box where the ball _should’ve_ ended up.

An innocent, “ _Sorry, Lou_ ,” drifts across the court making Louis roll his eyes.

It’s too hot to go running after anymore of Harry’s bad serves so he just grabs a fresh ball out of their duffle and hits it over the net to him.

“It’s fine, love!” Louis calls even though he really wants to wring his fiancé’s neck for forcing him out here to play with him in the first place and then having the nerve to just plain suck at it. He doesn’t know why Harry even makes them do things like this together when they both know who is the stronger player out of the two of them. Louis bites his tongue though. He closes his eyes and wipes at the new line of sweat trickling down the side of his neck before kindly asking Harry to try it again for the billionth time.

Harry gets in position to set up his serve and his stance looks a lot stronger than last time. That’s better form than Louis has seen from him all day so he braces himself, squatting low in anticipation that he might actually get to play.

His thighs are tensed and set to propel him forward to answer Harry’s serve with a good hit of his own. Unfortunately, Louis doesn’t even have to move from where he’s standing, sighing and straightening up again when Harry sends the ball clear over his head. This one flies so far off course that the fucking leaves rustle as it cuts through the trees.

Louis drops his head and covers his face with his racket even though he knows Harry can still see him through the nylon strings.

“Sorry again, babe!” Harry offers.

Louis cracks one eye open to watch his fiancé twisting his racket in his hands and awkwardly shifting his weight on his pigeon-toed feet.

He’s actually pretty fucking adorable which is the issue most of the time they play together because Louis can’t even be annoyed with him; well, not for long anyway.

Harry’s chance to serve is finally over. _Thank God._ They’ve been out here for over an hour and he hasn’t made a single one. It’s Louis’ turn now which is the most excitement he ever gets out on the court. It’s just too bad there aren’t any more tennis balls in the bag when he reaches for one.

This is just his luck. Every single one of them is out of bounds either from Harry serving them into the woods because his aim sucks or from Harry letting them fly right past him whenever Louis sends a perfectly good shot his way. Harry can’t see that they’re out of balls from so far away so Louis sets off without a word to go recover the two dozen he wasted. The things he does for love and his uncoordinated fiancé who probably couldn’t see a bowling ball flying at him over the net.

“Hey. Need some help?” Harry asks when he stumbles after him into the brush a couple of minutes later. “It’s only fair. I think most of these are in here because of me.”

Literally _all_ of them are in here because of him. “No, thanks,” Louis sighs as he throws the last few balls over into the bag. “I’ve got it.” Harry gently grabs his wrist when he stands to walk back towards the court.

“Hey, wait. Are you okay?”

Louis wants to scream that no he’s not fucking okay. He’s tired and sweaty and has been standing in the hot sun in one spot because playing Harry is the equivalent of playing one of these fucking trees, but Harry looks so concerned despite Louis being clearly irritated with him that he can’t do it.

“I’m just hot,” he answers, giving Harry most of the truth. “I forgot my sunglasses.”

Harry’s brow furrows hearing that he’s not having a good time. “I’m sorry. How about we just stay a little while longer. One more set then we can go?” he smiles. That sounds like a pretty good deal so Louis takes it, leaning his head back to receive the kiss Harry presses to his lips. The sooner Harry loses the sooner they can get the fuck out of here. It’s perfect.

It’s still Louis’ turn to serve once they’re back on the court which is usually the only exercise he gets when playing Harry. He serves the ball over the net in a perfect line right to Harry’s box and to his complete non-surprise he doesn’t even move to try and hit it back. Louis shakes his head and laughs as it bounces and shoots right past him, apparently much too quick for him to react to.

This is going to be easy. They’ll be out of here in no time simply because Harry’s lazy and useless.

“Serving again!” Louis warns before quickly sending a new ball over the net to get his victory rolling even faster. He blinks in surprise when Harry doesn’t just stand there this time. He makes a genuine effort to go after the ball. He still completely misses it of course. He even manages to stumble over his own feet in the process.

Louis snorts under his breath. “Jesus, Harry, was that you actually trying?” If so, it was somehow worse than him just standing there.

He didn’t mean it quite as offensively as Harry obviously takes it. It was a joke, mostly anyway, but Louis can see him flushing red all the way at the opposite end of the court. He recovers quickly though, frowning a bit as he resets with his racket and brushes it off.

“Serve it again,” he says in a hard tone that makes Louis chuckle. Harry has probably hit ten good balls in the span of their entire relationship and now he’s making fucking demands?

Louis gives him what he asked for and then some, serving the ball even harder than usual just to make him work for it. His plan backfires terribly because Harry springs into action so that his racket actually makes contact with the ball and sends it flying back over the net _within_ bounds. Louis hadn’t expected to have to react or like, _move_ in general after he served. He figured Harry would just miss again but Louis sprints to the upper right box to lob the ball back, grinning in victory when Harry is too slow to do the same.

Harry hangs his head in disappointment and the fact that he really thought he was about to win a point is cute. It’s heartening, truly.

“Aww, that was a nice try, baby. Your follow-through was bit on the unfortunate side of course, but at least you tried. Your legs and arms moved and everything. It was amazing.”

Harry shoots a glare over the net at him, but otherwise ignores Louis’ taunting.

“ _Again_ ,” he snaps, repositioning himself on the back line.

The smile Louis is wearing fades a bit around the edges when he sees just how serious Harry is starting to take this. “It’s just a game, love. It’s nothing to get frustrated with yourself over.” Harry has sucked at sports for as long as Louis has known him. It’s not like he thought today was going to be any different when he let Harry drag him out here.  

“I’m not frustrated with anybody,” Harry insists. “You wanted me to play. I’m playing. Now, serve it again. Unless you just want to forfeit and be done with it,” he challenges.

It’s not very often that Harry lets things like having two left feet or Louis teasing him about it get to him. For the most part Harry laughs along with him, but today is clearly not one of those days. Coincidentally, today is also not one of those days where Louis is in the mood to coddle him over it. War it is.

“Well, Haz, my love,” Louis shouts back, “If you’d move your bloody arse and anticipate where the ball is going like a normal person I wouldn’t have to _keep_ serving you,” he quips back, and it feels good getting that off his chest. Louis has been holding onto that one for years.

They shouldn’t have come out here. It’s too fucking hot and clearly neither of them has the patience for this today. He expects Harry to come to the same conclusion any moment now that their game has turned somewhat hostile, but he just squares his jaw instead.

“I’m waiting.”

Louis laughs out loud. He doesn’t really want to find Harry funny, but he’s kind of being a little shit and Louis can’t help it. Actually, he finds it pretty hot.

He serves the ball again as ordered, pleasantly surprised when Harry hits the ball back over the net. Louis sends it back and miraculously, Harry is able to do it again actually keeping the ball in volley for the first time ever.

They have five successful exchanges before Harry slips up and misses a pretty fast backhand that Louis had no choice but to utilize from fear of Harry _actually_ scoring a point against him. He couldn’t allow that to happen, but he loved the thrill of the fight all the same.

“Where in the world has _this_ person been hiding?” Louis pants through an impressed smile. He hasn’t sweat from exertion the whole time they’ve been out here, but he sure is dripping now. He should’ve told Harry to get his shit together ages ago. “Do you want me to serve again or are you all done getting your arse kicked for now?” he taunts. His eyebrows shoot up at the sharp, ‘ _Fuck off and serve already,’_ that Harry shouts back at him.

Harry crouches down in wait. Louis serves the ball like Harry asked, but he’s a bit _too_ enthusiastic about his impending win and sends it out of bounds.

Harry looks immensely pleased about him finally fucking up. Louis makes damn sure not to make the same mistake again feeling a rush when he serves and it lands perfectly in the box.

In Harry’s defense, he almost hits it back, but his grip around the racket is all wrong and his feet get in the way when he tries charging up the court. He stumbles over his shoes, allowing the ball to zoom right past him and over the back line.

Louis has witnessed significantly more embarrassing defeats from Harry. He didn’t even fall, but apparently this loss is too much for him because he screams a few impressive expletives that Louis has never even heard him use before, slings his racket _off_ the court, and then storms off in the direction of the car.

He guesses that’s a forfeit?

Louis gathers their things on his own after realizing Harry is truly upset and isn’t coming back. He slides behind the wheel of the car with caution, unsure if he should comment on what just happened or just let it go. Harry is obviously still hurt so Louis attempts to make it right. He places a hand on his thigh and gives it a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Haz. I didn’t mean any of what I said back there.”

He meets his eyes and scoffs at his apology.

“Yes, you did.” And okay. Sure. Louis kind of meant it when he yelled at Harry to move his gangly arse and _try_ for once, but it got him to play better so is Louis really in the wrong here? “Whatever. It’s fine,” Harry shrugs. “I don’t care.”

Louis sighs at his beautiful fiancé who is clearly annoyed with someone here and it’s not with himself.

“Harry, you _do_ care. And like I said, I’m sorry. I’ll go easier on you next time.” He squeezes his leg again, blinking back in surprise when Harry’s leg tenses and he tries to pull away.

“Just let it go, Lou,” he grumbles. “And I don’t need you to go easy on me. I’m not made of fucking glass. I’m fine.”

Louis blinks down at his lap with a growing pit inside of his stomach. He feels awful now that it’s all over and done with. He doesn’t know what got into him earlier. The two of them don’t fight, especially not about something as stupid as a tennis game and some harmless banter. He fucked up.

*

Louis pads into their bedroom later that day after they’ve both had a chance to shower, eat, and cool off.

He finds Harry quietly sitting on the bed with his laptop like he has been for the last half-hour so Louis gingerly sits down next to him, testing out the waters before he jumps back in.

“Hey. What are you watching?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh,” Louis nods, sensing that there are still some hard feelings lingering between them. “Well, can I watch nothing with you? I promise not to talk through it like last time,” he grins.

Harry doesn’t answer him and it feels like a slap to the face. Louis can’t handle the silent treatment. He just can’t. He’ll go crazy.

“Haz, I said I was sorry for today. Come on, love. Don’t be like this,” he whispers. He presses a soft kiss to Harry’s shoulder the way he likes and then presses another more deliberate kiss to the underside of his jaw, grinning when Harry’s eyes flutter closed against his will.

The laptop is completely in their way, but Harry’s strong hands snap around Louis’ wrists to stop him from moving it.

“ _Haz_ , _come on_ ,” he complains. He gives up trying with the laptop since it’s so bloody important to Harry. “What more do you want from me? I’m trying to make things right.”

Louis goes to apologize again because that’s clearly what Harry is waiting for but he cuts Louis off before he can, dropping Louis’ wrists to push the laptop out of the way. Harry grips the back of his neck and forces their mouths together without warning. It’s not exactly the sweet reconciliation that Louis was expecting, but it’s better than the silent treatment so he goes with it.

Harry isn’t usually this rough. If either of them is the rough one it’s Louis, but this reversal of power is definitely working for him.

Louis is hard already just from Harry bruising his lips and digging his nails into his skin to hold him still. All he wants is for Harry to lie him out on this bed. Clearly Harry has similar plans when he pushes Louis onto his back and then pins him down by his forearms so he can’t move.

Harry looms over him, his tall frame trapping Louis there on the mattress. “You can’t just do and say whatever you want, Lou. Teasing can go too far. _You_ go too far and it can hurt people’s feelings.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Harry looks just fine to him. Better than.

“No. It just hurts _your_ feelings, but obviously you like that sort of thing,” he says, pushing hips up to meet Harry’s and make him suck in a deep breath. “You said it yourself; you’re not made of glass. _You_ started it today out on the court. You kept asking for it.”

“Yeah, because _you_ kept pushing me,” Harry says, his grip slowly tightening around him.

“And you played a billion times better because of it,” Louis shrugs. Maybe he should tell Harry he sucks more often since it clearly gets a rise out of him in more ways than one.

Harry narrows his green eyes at him and goose bumps race down Louis’ body. “You were a dick.”

“And you suck at tennis,” Louis quips back. “So what?”

Harry’s jaw drops in disbelief that Louis actually said that, but eventually Louis’ smirk cracks him. “You are such an arsehole sometimes. I hope you know that.”

Louis is aware. He’s never claimed to not be.

“So, don’t marry me then,” he teases. “Since I’m so awful and I hurt your feelings so much.” If Harry hadn’t said yes when Louis asked him to spend the rest of their lives together he would’ve died. Yes, he teases Harry from time to time, but only because he loves him. And only because Harry looks like an adorably angry kitten whenever Louis gets under his skin.

“Of course I'm going to marry you. Now shut up and kiss me before I change my mind,” Harry grins, finally releasing Louis’ wrists from his grip. He’s much gentler when he closes his mouth over Louis’ this time. A fire is still there in his touch and in his kiss when he softly nips at Louis’ bottom lip, but it isn’t quite as brilliantly scalding as before. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but Louis was quite enjoying what they were doing before.

“If you’re not going to do it right then don’t do it at all.”

Again, Harry looks incredibly offended until he realizes Louis is fucking with him on purpose.

“See? This is exactly what I meant when I called you an arsehole.” He bites down harder when he kisses Louis again, grinding their hips together until Louis makes a pitiful moan into his mouth. “You’re ridiculous,” Harry fondly chastises, pulling back to get Louis out of his clothes.

“And you have the athletic ability of a giraffe. I’m glad that’s settled. Now, fuck me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Harry says even as he’s pulling off his shirt and working to untie his joggers.

“Hurry up and I wouldn’t have to.” Harry really is taking forever to get undressed so Louis sits up on his knees to grab the lube out of the drawer himself. He spreads his knees apart and pops the cap like he’s going to start opening himself up. His breath catches in his throat when Harry catches him by the wrist again to stop him.

“Do you need me here or not? If you’ve got this then I can just go.”

Louis takes one look at Harry hard and straining and already leaking against his stomach. Harry wouldn’t walk out of this room even if someone paid him to. It’s all just talk, but God is it working for the both of them.

“I need you. Please, Haz,” he breathes. He gets exactly the reaction he wants when Harry snatches the lube out of his hand and pushes him to lie back against the pillows.

Harry has always been pretty gentle while opening him up mostly out of fear of hurting him. This part is usually filled with soft kisses and Harry whispering how beautiful Louis looks. Not like today as he forces Louis’ legs back and only slides his fingers inside of him enough to drive him mad.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Louis grits out, feeling Harry come within a centimeter of his spot again and somehow managing to _not_ touch it.

“So? You made me lose today on purpose. What’s the difference?”

The difference is that Harry got over it because it was just a game and Louis is going cry because this is torture.

He shakes his head back and forth, unable to take it when Harry misses his spot yet again and then laughs about it. “Harry please. I’m even not joking. I can’t. I’ll do whatever you want just-” Louis’ breath is stolen away when Harry finally thrusts his fingers into him. It feels like little streaks of lightening dancing across his skin.

“Is that better?” he whispers, watching Louis’ legs tremble.

Much better since Harry could obviously only keep up the teasing for so long before it was too much even for him. Now he looks like _he’s_ about to cry each time Louis throws his head back to moan.

Harry snatches his fingers out of him and clumsily slicks himself up with lube. Louis had a smart comment to make in order to tease Harry about how desperate he looks but he starts pushing in before Louis can even fully construct the insult, causing his eyes to roll back.

Harry asks him if he’s okay, a genuine question to make sure the ragged sound he just made was a good one. Louis nods and receives no other warning before Harry starts rolling his hips into him.

Louis keeps reminding himself that he asked for this as Harry begins ruining him from the inside out. He did take things too far today with their game, but it’s not like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

He liked Harry getting snappy with him and annoyed enough to fight back. He loves it now too, probably even more so because Harry is determined to make him pay for earlier by not letting him catch a fucking break. He can’t even breathe.

“I’m going to come,” Louis gulps around the kiss Harry is busy biting into his lips.

“Don’t,” he orders in a low tone that goes straight to the pit of Louis’ stomach. “I’m going to come first.”

Louis nods, trying his best to do as Harry said but he’s already too far gone. He isn’t even touching himself when Harry makes him cry out and he comes between them.

He didn’t mean to do that. Louis braces himself for whatever punishment he’s about to receive for going against a direct order like that, but he gets none feeling Harry’s hips stutter and slam into him one last time as he comes too.

Harry had some nerve bossing Louis around and telling him not to come when he was weak and barely hanging on himself. He’s such an overconfident little shit sometimes. Louis loves him so much.

Louis sighs with a tired grin pulling at his lips.

“How was it?” Harry smiles, his dimples glistening from the sweat streaked down his beautiful face.

“Eh,” Louis shrugs. “I’ve had better.” Harry gives him a flat look that makes Louis snort. “It’s a _joke_ , love.”

“It better be,” Harry mumbles with a swift pinch to Louis’ side. He winces as he pulls out of him and then collapses onto his back. Louis immediately curls up next to him eagerly awaiting the kiss that Harry pulls him in for.

“…So, uh…how about we play again sometime this week. Like, maybe tomorrow?” Louis nonchalantly suggests out of nowhere making Harry’s face twist up in confusion.

“What? Why?”

So Louis can come so hard that he sees stars again. “Tennis was fun.”

“Yeah, for _you_ maybe,” he laughs. “You always win. And you _hate_ playing tennis with me,” Harry points out. “You never want to go.”

He’s not wrong. Louis may hate watching Harry be useless on the tennis court but he loves the way Harry looks after properly whipping him into shape. He loves the way he fucks afterwards too.

“ _No_. That’s not true at all,” Louis swears. “Tennis with you is great. It’s great exercise.”

Harry barks out a laugh, listening to Louis lie through his teeth. “I see exactly what you’re trying to do,” Harry tells him, circling his arms around Louis’ waist.

“So what?” Louis smirks. “Do you have a problem with that?” It sure didn’t sound like he did a few minutes ago when they were fucking.

“Nope. Not at all," Harry smiles. "Even if you are a transparent little shit."

**Author's Note:**

> It's so much fun being part of this challenge. Thanks to all of the great writers involved! :)


End file.
